Kiran: The Story Continues
by Darien Fawkes
Summary: Follow on to "Enemy Within" by DJ Rocca. After the shooting, Kiran is left with no memory, and a new life, but given the love she left behind, how long can it be before she remembers who she really is?
1. Kiran

This is a little something I was inspired to write by DJ Rocca's excellent "Enemy Within", covering the events surrounding Kiran after the shooting. It is unconnected to any of my other stories, but Chelle was kind enough to let me borrow her characters. Hope you like it.

**Legal: **I do not own Power Rangers or the associated names, events, places etc. I also do not own Kiran, she is the creation of DJ Rocca, who was kind enough to let me use her. Everything else is purely the creation of the author.

**Rating: **T – May be adult themes, language and violence.

Who am I?

It's a question I doubt many have asked, but I find myself asking it now. I have no idea who I am or where I am. I only know one thing. I'm afraid!

A sliver of light penetrates the edges of some kind of square entrance to the place I'm in. I pound ferociously with my fists and my feet to draw attention. Eventually someone answers my cry for help, pulling out the drawer I'm lying on.

"Holy sht, you're alive!" My rescuer announces in surprise. "I need to get help, I need..."

He didn't finish what he was saying. I grabbed his head and rammed his throat down on the edge of the drawer. He looked at me for a second with cold, glassy eyes before slumping to the ground. I clamber out of the bed I was in and press two fingers to his neck instinctively. Why? I honestly don't know. All I know is I'm not surprised when I find no movement there. He's dead.

I take a second to look around the room. I was in a drawer, one of many on that wall. This man was wearing some kind of uniform, made of a light blue fabric. I can see no way out save for one. There's an elevator on one wall, and it's my only way to get out of this nightmare.

I make my way over and press buttons randomly, only to have a red light shine in my face. I pound the keys again, hoping for a more favourable response, but again, nothing.

I look around the room, hoping to get some idea what's going on. I know it's optimistic, hell, I don't even know who I am, so why would I understand this?

I look back to the wall I was dragged out of. It's full of drawers, each with a name or number on it. The one that's open, the one that I was in has one word written on the paper label.

"Persephone"

That answered one question, who I was. Apparently my name was Persephone. Now I needed to figure out how I got here and why.

I hear a sound coming from the elevator and instinctively snatch a scalpel from the desk, positioning myself to the side of the elevator door.

A woman walked out; wearing clothes much like the young man I killed only a few minutes ago, only these were pink. She looked around as though she was searching for someone.

"Dr. Armstrong?" She asked weakly. I spring from my hiding place, grabbing her roughly and holding her in place. The keen blade of the scalpel hovered near her jugular.

"Don't scream!" I warn her, seemingly by instinct. I walk her slowly out to the middle of the room. "Where am I?"

"You...you don't know?" She croaked, clearly terrified by her predicament. She should be, I can and will kill her if she doesn't give me the answers I want.

"If I knew I wouldn't ask." I hiss as I tighten my grip. "Where am I?"

"You're in South Central San Francisco Hospital." He replied in a weak voice, quivering in fear. "You're in the mortuary."

"How do I get out?" I ask her. She points shakily to the elevator. I press the scalpel a little harder into her neck, drawing a drop of blood.

"I can't get it down!" I bark, shoving her towards it. "How does it work?"

"There's a code," she finally responded, realising I had every intention of killing her had she denied me that knowledge, "type in 1965."

I hit those buttons and I hear the elevator coming. My captive whimpers a little as I wait. She tried to say something, but I didn't listen. I only want to get out of here.

As the elevator arrived, I grabbed the back of her head and her chin and spun her head sharply. I don't know why or how I knew to do that, all I know is what I confirmed by pressing two fingers to her neck. I had broken her neck, she was dead.

I then became aware of the fact I was naked. Lying in the drawer in the mortuary, they hadn't bothered to leave me any clothes. Looking down on the woman I had killed, I realised she was much the same size as me and began stripping her corpse.

I made my way up to the first floor, finding the same gleaming white corridors as the room I had just escaped. The only difference was up here, there were people everywhere. I try to hide my face as much as I can while I look for a way out. I finally bump into a young man in clothing similar to mine, only in a pale blue.

"This place is kind of a maze," he said in a weak little voice. I don't know much about what's going on, but I know he's checking me out. I feel a shudder up my spine as I think about it. "Look, I was heading out for a smoke, do you want one?"

I have no desire to smoke, but I do want out of here. I nodded and followed the young man as he led me out of a door. As soon as I felt fresh air hit my nostrils, I knew I had escaped.

"So how about you and me this weekend?" he asked as he lit a cigarette and offered me one. With a smile, I approached him slowly, and rammed the scalpel I had taken into his throat. His blood leaked onto the concrete as he floundered on the ground. I look around instinctively for a place to escape, though something stops me. I see a man, a familiar man with silvery hair and a long, black coat. His eyes are shielded behind dark glasses.

I draw back, preparing to attack. The stranger just smirks at me. I throw a flurry of punches in his direction, though he swats them aside dismissively. He catches one of my wrists, twisting it painfully before throwing me to the ground. I look up at him, awaiting an attack that never comes.

"Come with me Persephone," he implores me, reaching out a hand. I recoil into the wall a little. I still have no idea who I am or what's going on, "Persephone, come with me!"

Reluctantly I offer him my hand. So far he's the only one who seems to know me or what's going on. Somehow I know he has my best interests at heart. He moves quickly, too quickly for me to react. Before I know what happened, he grabbed me around the neck and jammed a couple of fingers into my flesh. Everything went black.

I wake up again, and I'm no less confused or frightened. This time though, my surroundings are a little softer, and more soothing. I'm in a soft, warm bed.

I pull back the covers, finding that someone has replaced the hospital scrubs I had stolen with pyjamas. They're pink, and seem just a little too long, the sleeves and the trouser legs reaching a little too far on me. They aren't made for me, that much is obvious. The door opened and I saw a grey-haired old man walking in. He hobbled a little, and has dark green robes. Just like the stranger who brought me here, something about him seems familiar.

"I'm glad to see you're awake Persephone," he tells me, sitting slowly on the bed, ensuring he doesn't get too close. Given what's happened before now, I can't blame him. In my panic to escape, I've already killed three people I know of.

"Who are you?" I ask him. He doesn't seem to be surprised that I don't know who he is, but I can see he's hurt. He obviously knows me. Perhaps he's my grandfather or something. I wish I knew, but right now I just have to ask.

"My name is Master Phant," he replied. Something about that name triggers some memories. I do know him. He isn't a relative, though I consider him as such. I know that much. He's cared for me. I know he isn't a threat. Something about him eases my fear. "We tried to reach you earlier."

I reach up to my head, finding a dressing there. I press it gently, realising that must be why I was in the hospital. That's why I can't remember anything, something happened to my head.

"What happened?" I ask him. He lets out a sigh and looks at me sadly.

"I can't answer that," he tells me sadly, "you need to rest."

Another person comes into the room, a young girl. She seems to be a teenager, and appears to be a little taller than I am. I guess by the way she acts around the man that she knows and trusts him. He sees me watching her carefully as she lays a tray on the dresser.

"This is my niece Gabby," he answers my question without me needing to ask, "you are in her room. You are safe here, you can trust her."

I'm a little wary of trusting anyone, but then neither of them has made any moves. I can feel a power within the old man. I have only felt it once before, within the man in the long coat who brought me here. It's not exactly the same, but it's definitely similar.

"The man who brought me, who is he?" I ask him. "Is he my father?"

"His name is Master Swoop," he answers me, "he has had many roles in your life Persephone. He is no blood relative, but I suppose he is probably the closest thing you could refer to as a father."

I suddenly get an image. I can see him picking me up, cradling me in his arms, carrying me. At first I think I'm getting some latent memory of the hospital, but then I can feel a warm, searing pain in my head. I can see, though I am hanging in a limbo, not quite alive, though not yet dead. I hear his voice.

"Oh Persephone, you did not need to do this..."

I reach my hand to my head again. This time I get more than an image. I can smell something. Burning, sulphur. I get an image of something in my hand. It's a gun, pointing right at my head.

"I did this," I whisper, pulling the blanket around myself. The young girl looks to Master Phant, like she wants to ask him about this. He shakes his head gently to let her know that this is not the time for explanations. She leaves the room, closing the door behind her. He turns back to me with regret in her eyes.

"I had hoped you wouldn't remember that so soon, but yes," he replied honestly, "you did inflict these injuries yourself. You were trying to end your life."

"Why?" I ask him. I know he's telling me the truth. I can't help but ask. As horrible as all this is, I need to know. I'm dangerous, that much I already know. While I'm like this, I'm reacting purely on instinct, and so far that instinct has led to three people, as far as I'm aware three innocent people, losing their lives. I've tried to end my life, and given that I woke up in a morgue, clearly I almost succeeded. Whatever's happened that's so horrible, so frightening that I tried to kill myself rather than face it, it can't be worse than this surely.

"I fear that right now it is not in your best interests to know," he replied, getting off the bed. "I promise that we will explain everything when you are strong enough. Until then you need to rest. While your head injury was not fatal, you still need to rest."

"But..."

"I promise you that I will explain Persephone." He interrupts me. "Gabby has left you some food on the table if you're hungry."

As he turns to leave, I need to ask him one more thing.

"Before I woke up, I saw a lion." I tell him. "What does that mean?"

"You've suffered a terrible injury; the mind does strange things when it's injured," he tells me, "pay it no mind. Get some rest, I promise I will return soon."

I am not satisfied by his answer. He can't look me in the eye when he says this, and his voice is a lot weaker. He's lying to me. He knows what this means, I can see it in him, but he won't tell me. He leaves the room, leaving me there.

I make my way to the door, and press my ear to the wood. I can hear voices faintly on the landing outside the room. One belongs to Master Phant, the other to Master Swoop. I recognise them.

"How is she?" Master Swoop asks him.

"She's as well as can be expected." Master Phant answers him. "What did the Elders have to say?"

"She is not to return to the temple." He responded in a sigh. "She has blood on her hands. They will not allow her to re-enter the temple."

"She will also have no place in the outside world," Master Phant responded, "as far as the world is concerned, she is a multiple murderer. She must disappear."

I can hear a little shifting in the hallway. I know that something is happening.

"I will not be returning to the temple," Master Swoop stated.

"They have excommunicated you?" Master Phant asked him, "but you were not responsible for her actions..."

"It was my choice." He interrupts him. There's a weak quiver in his voice now, and I can tell from it he's crying. I can feel that he cares for me. In what capacity I cannot remember, though his sincerity is obvious. "After my disastrous failure to care for her, I never want to be responsible for another's welfare again."

"My friend, you judge yourself too harshly," Master Phant tells him, "Kiran was always a troubled child. We knew that when we took her in."

I furrow my brow as I hear this. That name, Kiran, I know that name. It means something to me. They've told me my name is Persephone, but I know this name Kiran also.

"They are keeping me as a messenger," Swoop informed him, "Kiran is no longer to enter the temple, though given the danger she poses, as well as the fact she will never be able to have a normal life, they have decided to give her another position."

"What position?" Master Phant asks him. I want to know that too. I know nothing of my life. Only what I have been told and what I have figured out for myself.

"She is to be a hunter," Swoop relied, "I am to deliver her assignments."

I feel my chest tighten again. There's a sense of dread that fills me when I hear that title. I do not fully understand, but I already know one thing. The three people I killed at the hospital will not be the only ones whose blood will end up on my hands.

"This is a bad idea," Master Phant said flatly, "we must lobby against the Elders..."

"Their minds are made up," Master Swoop interrupts him, "it is one of the reasons I chose to leave the temple."

"There is something else, something which bodes badly for Persephone should she be forced to live this lie," Master Phant tells him, "she saw the Lion. She still yearns for her mate."

Swoop doesn't respond for a while, and I hear pacing. I can imagine him considering this new information. I consider it myself. The Lion is my mate.

"Does she remember?" Master Swoop asked him.

"Not much." Master Phant told him. "She only knows of the Lion. I told her it is likely a trick of her mind."

"Then all we can do is hope she can learn to believe that," Master Swoop replied, "you know as well as I do how much danger they could both be in if the truth is uncovered."

"He believes she is dead," Master Phant assured him, "it should be simple to keep him convinced of this."

"As for Persephone, we must simply hope that she never discovers the truth," Master Swoop stated, "in time, perhaps she will come to believe that the Lion is not a true memory."

I hear him approaching the door, and make my way into the bed, pulling the covers around myself protectively. I hear the door opening and opt to feign sleep. I have fought this man once, and do not wish to repeat the experience. It would be a fruitless effort. If I am to discover the truth, then I need to hear it from this man, the one who has chosen to deny me the right to my true life, and if I am so understand, the only one to whom I will soon have contact.

He strokes my hair, and I feel my anger subsiding a little. He has just sworn to lie to me for the rest of my life, but there is no way that the feeling I have at his touch can be wrong. It is an unspoken and unexplained love. He has done this to protect me, and also this Lion. He has done so because he cares for me.

"Sleep well Persephone," he bids me as he strokes my hair lovingly, "I promise I will care for you as I always have."

He gets up and leaves the room, leaving me to sleep. I feel tears burning my eyes. He is my only guardian, the one I will rely on from this point forward. I already know my life will be one filled with lies and bloodshed. There is no way back save for one. I must find the Lion.


	2. The Law Firm Job

I hate this place, but at the same time I find myself relying on it. As far as a prison goes it isn't bad. The temple's got me an apartment in the area of Ocean Bluff where no one asks questions when a young girl moves in and only leaves once or twice a month. More than that, they don't really mind that the only one who seems to visit is a mysterious man in a long, dark coat that never seems to speak to anyone. No, in this part of town they don't say "curiosity killed the cat", they just say "curiosity kills". No one asks any questions and that's the way we like it.

Swoop comes by regularly. Two or three times a week to ensure I have everything I need. Other than that, all I know of the outside world is when I am sent on a hunt. It's too dangerous for me to venture out for too long. The three people I killed to escape are still unsolved murders, and so to the rest of the world I am still a multiple murderer. Spending too long out of the apartment would only increase the chances I will be identified and brought to justice. If I'm lucky, I'll trade one prison for another. If not, then the state will take my life. All things considered, this prison isn't bad.

I have comfortable surroundings. A warm bed, a TV subscription and a newspaper every morning, and enough food for three square meals a day. At first I didn't understand why they wanted me to have a TV and a newspaper every day; after all, all I am is a hunter. I'm a tool, a weapon for the temple. It was explained to me eventually that given my isolation, it is essential I know what's going on in the world. They don't want me to give myself away while I'm on a hunt. I need to understand things about the world to better blend into the background when I'm working. That's the best way to avoid being caught, to disappear. It isn't hard, I haven't existed now for almost two years.

I'm in the middle of my workout, working on asymmetric bars as there's a knock at the door. I still don't understand the purpose behind that. All my bills are paid direct, everyone has strict instructions that no one comes to the door. The only person that ever comes here is Swoop. He opens the door with his key as I dismount with a quick back flip.

"You've been working hard," he tells me as he sets a bag of groceries down on the table. He's blind, but he's always been able to tell how I am. It freaked me out at first when he told me he can hear my heartbeat and my breathing. He could tell me how I'm feeling, whether I'm healthy, everything. Now though it doesn't surprise me. He pretty much always greets me by commenting on how I am.

"There's not much else to do here," I tell him as I start to wipe myself down with a towel. I cross the room and kiss him. He may have been a father figure to me once, but our relationship has changed now. He's my only contact with the outside world. He's my guide, my counsellor, my only relief from the loneliness of this apartment. It isn't much, but given the violence and bloodshed of my new life, I take tenderness where I can find it. Even if it is with the man I know to be denying me the right to find out who I really am. Who lies to my face when I ask him if he knows more about who I was before. I already know he does. "I'll just go and shower."

"We have another assignment," he tells me as he hangs up his coat. I run the shower, taking pleasure in its warmth as I hear him say this. I'm being sent out again, someone is going to die tonight. I am a hunter. One of the functions the temple tries to keep under wraps to all but its inner circle is that the war against Dai Shi has many levels, and sometimes even they must play dirty. Sometimes it is necessary for them to remove a danger to the temple before it becomes an issue. Sometimes people need to die. That is my job. I'm a tool, a weapon, an assassin.

"We?" I ask him sarcastically. He gives a weak laugh, he does every time we exchange that joke. I know I'm going alone.

"One of the senior students has gone rogue," he informed me, "she has taken something that belongs to the elders and fled the temple."

I shut off the shower and dry myself off as I listen to him.

"She stole an amulet of significant power from us," he continued with the briefing, "we need you to bring it back."

He doesn't say that I've to kill her. That much is understood. If they just wanted the amulet back, then they could have sent anyone to retrieve it. The Elders obviously feel that this transgression cannot stand. She signed her own death warrant when she crossed the elders.

"Who is she?" I ask him as I come into the room. He hands me a drawing of her. She's young, some would say too young. It doesn't matter though, once I take a job, it's only a matter of time.

"She was believed to be seeking a buyer. We think she doesn't realise what she has in her possession and merely wishes to sell it. One of our agents saw her at the offices of Volhoff, Jung and Reeves," he told me, "she was seen in the company of Richard Reeves the attorney. We believe he may be trying to help her broker a deal."

"Where is she now?" I ask him.

"She was seen entering the offices with him earlier today," he informs me, "she has not left the building. They're having a major party there for shareholders and clients tonight. Reeves is likely to have her taken to a safe house after tonight, so this may be your best opportunity to get close to her."

"Security will be tight," I tell him. He just laughs.

"That shouldn't be a problem for you," he responds. He then reaches into the paper bag he pulls out a short, black cocktail dress and presents it to me. I look at it a little sceptically. I've never worn anything like this. At least I don't think I have. Much beyond two years ago is still an unintelligible fog. Swoop smiles as he realises it's bothering me.

"You'll look great in this," he assures me.

"How exactly is that going to get me in?" I ask him, taking the dress off him and inspecting it, trying to figure out how to put the thing on.

"The people going to that party will be rich, arrogant and superficial, but the other thing to remember is that most of them will be male." He tells me. "Have you ever heard of the term 'arm candy'?"

I don't like this plan; I don't like it at all. Normally I'm given the opportunity to check out the lay of the land and check it out. I'd probably try to find a way to sneak in, preferably at night when it would only be security, but this time that isn't an option. Tonight might be our only chance to get to her, and the building is going to be full of people. Sneaking in isn't an option.

"I don't have an invite," I told him. He just laughs.

"Trust me, in that dress, you won't need one," he told me, leaning in and kissing my neck, "let me help you."

It took me longer than I would have liked to get dressed. Having never worn anything like this, I had no idea how to put it on. Swoop helped me figure it out. It also took me a while to figure out how to walk in heels. The outfit is not practical, but at least it seems to have the desired effect. I'm getting a lot of interested looks as I walk down the street. My ankles and my calves are killing me by the time I get to the building. I can't wait to get out of these damn things. I arrive at the door, and see security checking invites. They're wearing dark suits, but I can see by the line of their jackets they're armed. I could almost certainly take the three of them without too much trouble, but when they're armed, it's a lot more of a risk. I'd only give myself away too early.

A limo pulls up to the door, and I see a man getting out. He's old, VERY old, and grossly overweight. His beetroot red face is bloated. His voice is coarse and aggressive as he dismisses his chauffeur. They always say you can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his inferiors. He treats his underlings like sht, so I can tell he is elitist and arrogant. I walk over to him and hook my arm in his.

"I've been waiting for you uncle," I say softly as I look into his eyes. He looks me up and down thoughtfully and gives me a lecherous grin. I learned a while ago that men find me attractive. That can make a lot of jobs a lot easier, and in this case will get me into the building. He believes he'll get something from me later, though judging by the smell of wine on his breath, he'll probably not make it to the end of the night anyway. Of course it'll make him look really impressive to all his colleagues inside if he arrives with an attractive woman half his age on his arm.

"Virginia, I'm glad to see you made it," he greets me as he leads me towards the doormen. He believes I'm an escort or something, and has given me the identity I have to use in his presence. He shows his invite to the guard, and is waved in without a further thought. They don't even look at me, his kind are always the same. They're used to it.

As we take the elevator up to the main office floor, I can feel his hand on my butt, and I suppress the urge to just break his arm. It would only give me away too early. As we arrive on the main floor, the doors open and I find myself in a huge, spacious lobby, filled with guests. Waiters are carrying around trays of canapés and drinks, and everyone is there dressed in their finest. He all but drags me over to meet his associates in the corner. Seeing the number of people here, I realise I could be in serious trouble. There are still armed guards all around, even a couple above me on a balcony, watching over the party from a commanding position. Any wrong moves could give me away. For now I play along.

He introduces me to his associates, and begins talking business. I can see them casting a judgemental gaze over me. He doesn't introduce me as his niece to them; I'm here to make him look good. They're impressed, thinking he's taking me home with him once the party's over. I tap him on the shoulder as he begins talking about a case.

"I need to freshen up," I tell him. He waves me off as he continues to talk with the others, no longer paying attention to me. This is the window of opportunity I need to get away from him, now I can look for my prey.

I go into the bathroom, and instinctively check the stalls to ensure no one is there. I begin to wonder how I'll ever get an opportunity to search this crowd when my luck changes almost instantly. Looking up into the mirror, I see her walking in. I kick off my heels as I prepare to move, I may only have a second. As she opened the stall door, I lunge across the room, shoving her inside and locking the door behind her.

I don't give her a second to react, seeing that she's still stunned from the fall. I grab her firmly around the neck, and squeeze tightly, shutting off the jugular veins. She passes out quickly, following which I break her neck to finish her off.

I kick her over onto her back to look into her face. She isn't wearing the amulet, but then again I never expected her to. I can see she's carrying a clutch bag, and so I empty its contents onto the cistern and check through them quickly. There's no amulet there. I'm too late; she's already passed it on. I see a business card and read it. Richard Reeves, she has possibly already handed it to him. I need to find a way to get to him. I position her in a seated position on the toilet and climb out, leaving the door locked. It buys me time, no one will check on her now until security is clearing the building after the party.

After slipping those accursed heels back on, I make my way back out into the room. I glance quickly around to make sure my "date" isn't looking for me, and find him still talking business with his colleagues. Excellent, this gives me a chance.

I approach one of the wine waiters, and take a glass from his tray. He looks to be enjoying this affair as much as a colonic, but given the clientele I can understand.

"I'm looking for Richard Reeves," I tell him. He looks at me.

"He's upstairs in his office," he responded in a bored little sigh, continuing what he was doing, "he wanted to take a breather."

Looking to the staircase, I can see there's a guard standing there. I could try my luck handing him the business card and just asking to go up, but I figure that if I'm seen going up to his office, then it'll just make it easier to track me when they find him dead. No, I need to find another way up.

I head back to the bathroom to regroup my thoughts. How do I go up to the upper floor without being noticed? The elevator and stairs are being watched, I need another way up.

Looking to the window, I open it. It isn't large, but then again, I've never been a big person myself. There's just enough room for me to squeeze through the gap. Taking off my heels again and clutching them in my teeth, I climb through as gracefully as I can under the circumstances and I find myself now outside the building. There aren't many decent handholds, but there are just enough that I can finally make my way up another floor, to the top floor of the building and shift along to a balcony. There's a light on in this room, so I'm sure it's the one Reeves is in. I confirm it by hearing his voice as I climb over the barrier onto the balcony and look cautiously around the edge of the door into his office.

He's tall, maybe six feet or more, with thick, dark hair. He's sitting with his back to the window. It'll make my job easier. I quietly open the door and sneak in, making my way slowly behind him.

"I still have things to do here," he said down the phone as I creep closer, "I love you too honey."

As he hangs up, I arrive behind him, and throw him face-first to the floor. I grab a letter-opener from his desk and shove it against the back of his neck, kneeling on his back as he tries to get up. He freezes, believing it's a true knife.

"What do you want?" he asks me, "I'll give you anything."

"A woman sold an amulet to you this afternoon," I tell him, "I want it back."

"It's in the safe," he tells me in a panic, "I can get it out, just please don't hurt me!"

I get off his back, letting him get up. He makes his way over to the safe as I follow him.

"Who are you?" he asks me, "why are you after this amulet?"

"That's none of your concern!" I tell him. His shoulders slump a little and his head cocks a little to the side. "Open it!"

"I know you," he says he punches in the code, "something about your voice, we've met before."

"Shut up!" I yell, pressing the letter opener to his ribs. I'm panicking now; I don't know what to do. Is he stalling for time? Is he hoping someone will come and free him from this situation? "Open the safe!"

As the safe swings open, he turns around, getting a look at my face. His eyes open wide and his jaw drops in disbelief.

"Kiran?" he asks me. I clutch my head as images race back to me. Seeing his face, I'm getting images, memories I'd long forgotten and couldn't access until now. His eyes make my heart race; something about them is so familiar. He called me Kiran. Only one person has done that since the accident, and not to my face. He looks at me with awe, like I'm back from the dead. I can tell he wasn't lying when he said he knew me.

He's making his way to his desk by the time I snap out of it and realise what's happening. I tackle him, taking him to the ground. As he turns to face me, I ram the letter opener into his chest with enough force to sink in up to the hilt. Screaming loudly, I continue to stab him, again and again until his once-white shirt is dark red with his blood. I look down at my hands and realise they too are covered in his blood.

Getting my mind back on the task at hand, I grab the amulet from his safe and head back out of the balcony door. I stumble as I try to climb down, almost falling to my death, though I manage to regain my hold. I check that the bathroom's empty before I climb back in.

I run the sink and scrub my hands roughly, washing off his blood. This job has been screwed up, it's gone downhill from the moment I went upstairs. Cleaning my hands, I look into the mirror at my face. I'm now very pale; and shaking badly. I haven't been this scared since that day in the morgue.

His eyes haunt me. His face was familiar, though I don't know why. He knew me. I know that because he said that name I had only heard from Master Phant.

"Kiran," I say out loud, hoping to trigger some more memories, "Kiran; Kiran…"

I remember nothing. The first lead I've had in a long time as to who I really am and I've just killed him. I curse myself for that, though right now I've got more pressing worries.

I realise I left my shoes behind, and so I end up stealing the shoes from my earlier victim. I'm sure people would notice me walking out of here barefoot. As I make my way to the elevator and head down, a new feeling comes over me. I regret killing him. He had the answers for me, and in my panic to avoid a confrontation with the guards, I silenced my only link to the past. For some reason when I think of his eyes, I get memories of the lion.

The lion is my mate. I remember Phant saying that. He said I remember the Lion because I still yearn for him. This man is a connection to that. I need to know more. I need to find out more about the man I've just killed, even if it does mean going behind the back of the man who's cared for me and yet lied to me for two long years.


	3. Richard's Funeral

I wake up the next day, feeling the familiar warm, heavy weight of Swoop's body beside me. I needed some tenderness last night, and I got it as usual from him. I needed it; I needed a way to get my mind away from the images I had seen. I just wish I could say it had worked.

I pull myself from the bed, carefully removing myself from his arms and make my way to the bathroom, running the cold tap filling the sink, before plunging my face into its icy embrace, snapping me completely to consciousness from the shock. I throw my hair back and stare at myself in the mirror and I replay the scene over and over in my mind, again and again.

Things moved slowly as he turned around. I wasn't really paying attention to him. My objective was so close that I took my eye off him for a second. It was a rookie mistake, one that could have cost me my life if he had been armed. I didn't know why I had taken my eye off him like that at the time, but as I mull over the events in that office, it all begins to make more sense.

I hadn't felt right about holding him since I'd heard his voice. Because of this damned scrambled brain of mine I didn't necessarily recognise it, but something about it had made me feel uneasy. It was vaguely like I knew somewhere within myself I should let him go, that he was someone important even if I didn't know why.

I took my eyes off him, almost as though I knew he wouldn't harm me. A part of me must have known. I saw it all over again as he said that name.

"Kiran."

I can still see the look in his eyes as he saw me. It was a mixture of shock and fear. He knew me. He knew who I was. More than that, he seemed to be very familiar with who I was, as though I was someone important in his life at one time. Was it possible he was a member of my family? Had I just murdered not only the only link to my past, but a relative? One whose blood flowed in my veins?

There was so much blood. I've seen blood before, lots of it. In this line of work it goes with the territory. I try to be neat, but sometimes things go bad, and getting out alive becomes more important than getting out clean. This was one of those times. I had screwed up the job badly. I had taken my eyes off him for a second time as I got those flashbacks. It was nothing clear, no sudden realisation as to who I was, or even who he was. All I saw was the lion. I heard those words all over again. The Lion is my mate. The lion is the one who holds the answer to me getting my life back, I'm sure of it.

I saw him making a sudden lunge for his desk. I reacted completely by instinct. I didn't know if he was going for an alarm, or if he had a weapon in the desk, and so I took him down. Thinking about it now, in the cold light of day when I can think about it for more than a second, I doubt he had a weapon. Or at very least if he had one; I doubt he'd have used it. Something about his voice, the way he looked at me when he realised who I was, I'm sure I meant something to him. I just know he wouldn't have harmed me, at least not more than he needed to in order to get himself out of danger.

After taking him down, I rammed the dull blade of the letter opener into his chest. I can feel the gasp of shock in him as his chest was punctured, and I sank the blade in up to the hilt. I can still see the look in his eyes as I punctured his heart. It was something that bothered me. It was betrayal. He knew who I was, and I killed him.

In my panic, I launched into a frenzy, screaming and lashing out. I lost all control, like my animal spirit had taken over and drove the dull blade into his chest again and again. By the time I had finished, his shirt was soaked in blood, and was already starting to leak onto the floor. The human body has around ten pints of blood in it. It felt like I'd seen most of it by the time I could pull myself away from him.

I let out a little shriek and jump with a start as I feel his arm around my waist. I was so caught up in the memory of what happened last night, I hadn't noticed that Swoop had woken up and come into the bathroom behind me. I can feel the warmth of his body against mine and manage to suppress a tremble at his touch.

"You're jumpy this morning," he commented, "perhaps a shower would help you relax."

"The job went a little chaotic last night," I tell him as I try to calm down. My heart is still beating at a thousand miles an hour, and my breathing is rushed gasps. I can't lie to him like this. I can lie to Swoop, I've had plenty of practice, but to do so I have to concentrate on keeping my breathing and my heart rate even so he doesn't pick up on it. Right now all I can manage is to limit how much of the truth I tell him and hope he doesn't ask too many questions. "I could use a shower."

"I think we both could," he replies with a cheeky grin. I smile at him as he pulls off his boxer shorts and starts to run the water. I've lucked out; he's more interested in continuing what we started last night than in finding out how badly things went. I got home without a police tail and uninjured, as far as he's concerned that's a success. I slowly get undressed and join him in the shower, taking the time to calm myself from this self-imposed panic and regain control of myself as he wraps his arms around me, beginning to kiss me and stroke me tenderly. The feel of his flesh on mine is comforting. The only real comfort I feel in this sham of a life, but I already know that that's all it is. He's the one keeping me in this life, keeping me from finding my true life. My heart only belongs to one, even if I can't remember him. The lion is my mate.

After we've finished with our shower, Swoop gets dressed, leaving me to sort out the other details. I've put the shoes and dress into a paper bag. As usual Swoop will "clean up", getting rid of anything that could connect me to anyone that might have seen me. I'm not sorry to see the shoes go. It was bad enough when it was the heels that were made to fit me, but the pair I stole from the girl, the pair I came home in didn't even fit properly. If I never see another pair of heels in my life I'll be happy, but I do kind of think I'll miss the dress. It was the first time I'd worn something that was designed for aesthetics as opposed to simple practicality. It felt good. As I'm about to put the clutch bag into the paper bag, I find myself stopping. This man is dead, but perhaps he still has something to tell me. I check the bedroom door to make sure Swoop's still getting dressed and quickly check through it. Pulling out the business card, I shove it into the back pocket of my jeans before shoving it away. Swoop comes out of the bedroom.

"Have you got everything?" he asks me.

"It's all right here," I tell him, handing him the paper bag. He takes it and shoves it under his coat, before heading for the door. "Aren't you staying for breakfast?"

"I'll get something on the way home," he says with a smile as he heads out the door, "your eggs are burnt."

I curse under my breath as I smell it. I've been concentrating so much on what happened I've forgotten about the food I put on to cook. That was the last of my eggs; I suppose I'll have to make do with just toast. Swoop whistles from the door as I scrape the remains of it into the bin.

"The paper boy's been." He tells me, throwing the paper onto the table, before leaving. I put some bread in the toaster before heading to the table to check the newspaper. As I see the headline, I'm glad Swoop can only read Braille. The press have gotten hold of this quickly.

"Leading Lawyer Butchered"

I read through the article, hoping for some new information.

"Leading Ocean Bluff attorney Richard Reeves was discovered brutally slain in his office by security staff in the early hours of this morning, stabbed to death. Police suspect he was simply the unfortunate victim of a botched robbery."

They don't say much, they never do. The police need to know if any information they receive, particularly any confessions, are true. They can only do that if they withhold the details. That way, anyone coming up with a story about what happened can be checked out. True witnesses will know details that aren't in the newspapers.

"He is survived by his wife and son. His partners in the firm have expressed their deep regret over his death, citing him as a hard working and loyal associate."

The rest of the article is purely fluff designed to paint him in a good light. Nothing of substance that will help me figure anything out. There's a picture of him, though it does not do him justice. The eyes seem wrong. They aren't the same; they don't have the same effect on me in print. I guess it was too much to hope for that a mere photograph would give me more flashbacks.

I throw the paper aside, and turn back to my breakfast. At least I haven't burnt the toast. As I head back to the couch, I halt as I get inspiration. I pull up the sheet of the paper that's staring at me. I never thought of this before. Once my victims were dead, I paid them no further mind, but now I realise that they all go somewhere.

"Obituaries," I read aloud to myself. I read one of them.

"Patrick Franks. Beloved father and husband, passed away peacefully in his sleep on 14 May 2006. Those wishing to pay their respects are invited to the funeral on 18 May..."

I checked the next one.

"...will be laid to rest..."

And the next.

"Funeral on..."

That was it. After my victims died, they had to go somewhere. The obituaries listed the times and dates of the funerals. I don't know what I expect to find out, but it can't make me any further from finding out about him than I was before I started.

It was only a couple of days later I find his name in the obituaries. His funeral is today, and the graveyard is only a few blocks from here. I'm a little nervous now. I've not left the apartment out with a mission since I've arrived. I've always been afraid to, knowing that the authorities are still seeking me for at least three murders that I'm aware of. By now it's entirely possible I've been linked to some of my assignments. It's impossible to leave every job without leaving a trace. I know I could have left a fingerprint or some hair. Possibly even some blood, not every job goes to plan.

I wish I still had the dress. I don't intend to mingle with the guests, but from what little I know of funerals, people normally dress quite formally. I don't want to attract attention. I look out the best clothes I own, a black T-shirt and black denims. I hope that at least at a distance I'll not look out of place.

As I approach the door, my hands are shaking and my heart beats faster. I've gone through this door dozens of times, and yet this time is different. No one is going to die tonight. Not by my hands at least. Swoop isn't here to tend to...in truth I don't know what he does when I'm not here. I'm just used to him telling me it's time to leave, to go forth and kill in the name of the temple. I guess at this time I'm in no greater danger of being exposed than at any other time, but for some reason it feels different.

I reach my hand forward towards the door handle. This is my prison, and my gaoler is not here to release me. I turn the door handle, and my heart skips a beat as the door opens. I don't know what I expected. The door isn't locked, not in any way that it can't be opened from inside anyway. I guess logically I knew it would open without any effort. In some ways, I suppose a part of me almost hoped that it wouldn't, or that Swoop would be outside to order me back inside. I have no such luck. This time it's going to be so much harder to leave, because this time it will be my decision one way or another. I clench my fists, stuffing the keys into my pocket and leave. I need to know.

I walk down the street, and I'm constantly self-conscious. People look at me, and I wonder if I've been recognised. I know it's unlikely, but I keep thinking I see a suspicious look. I pass a police patrol car and I stop dead, staring at it. The cop looks at me and my heart freezes. Is this it? Is this what Swoop had warned me about? Was I about to be caught and brought in?

He just turns back to what he was doing and ignores me. I breathe a sigh of relief and hurry on, as quickly and casually as I can in my panic. Logically I know there's no greater chance of me being recognised and brought in now than any of the other times I've left the apartment. The only difference is that when I'm on a mission, I'm focussed. I don't notice all the little things people are doing, and I don't panic at every little glance. Perhaps this is why I don't stand out all those times.

I arrive at the graveyard, and I see people there. Some of them are dressed casually, visiting graves of friends or relatives that are already gone. It makes me feel a little better, and gives me an idea. I just need to find where the funeral will take place and watch from a nearby grave until they move on. Anyone seeing me there will simply believe I'm visiting a loved one.

I look around, finding an open plot. I get just close enough to check the head stone and confirm that this is the right grave. I take a position nearby, kneeling near a headstone that is facing away, using it for cover. The guests begin to arrive, all dressed in dark, formal attire.

All of the people here are men; many of them were at the party the other night. I pull a little further into my hiding place. I really don't need to be spotted now; many of them could recognise me from the other night. I watch carefully as the one and only female guest arrives.

She's a small woman, hunched over and moving slowly, swathed in black clothing. She's being escorted to the side of the grave by a tall man with long dark hair. Their backs are to me, but I remember the obituary. Since this is the only woman at the funeral, I surmise that this is his wife, and given the age of everyone else at the funeral, the man with her must be their son.

The minister arrives to read the service, beginning with a prayer. He then begins to read a eulogy to the man I've murdered only a few days before hand. I look down at my hands and see them covered in blood. I need to look again, realising it was all just a memory.

As the minister finishes reading the statement of who this person was, and what he had meant to everyone here today, the woman begins to let out a low howl. Her son cradles her closer, and looks to be almost holding her up. My eyes sting, and I feel warm, wet streaks running down my face. This is a new sensation for me, I'm actually crying for her. Until now, I'd never really thought about the impact what I do has on others, but seeing how distraught, how devastated this tiny, broken woman is, it hits me. This man was married. He had a son. Now they have to watch him being lowered into the ground, lost to them forever and it's all because of me.

The procession turns from the grave site as they head down the path. For the first time I get a look at the woman I've turned into a widow. She's truly devastated; I can see that in the weakness in her face. Her tears are falling readily having just said goodbye to her husband for the last time. As she gets closer, I can see her face and I get a flashback. I know her.

I'm lying in a bed, a blanket wrapped around me. I'm naked, but I'm excited. A man is standing in front of me in his boxer shorts, talking to her by the door. He has long, dark hair and he has marks all over his body. They're claw marks, as though he had been attacked by some beast. I can't see his face, he has his back to me, but it's definitely her he's talking to.

I pull myself back and find my gaze drawn to the man beside her, her son. He's saying something to her, comforting her in her grief. He looks up, and I get a look at his face, at which my head burns far more painfully than it has before. It feels like my skull's about to burst open with the pain as I see him. His eyes, now I understand why Richard's eyes bothered me so much. His son's eyes are just the same. He looks almost identical to his father. Everything fades to black as my mind races back to those memories.

I can see so much. It was him in that bedroom with me and his mother. I see him holding me under a blanket to stave off the cold as snow falls outside the window. I can see myself standing over him, his leg encased in plaster as I care for him. I hear his voice calling to me.

"I love you."

My animal spirit stirs in me in a way it hasn't before, at least not to my knowledge. I can feel him...I know it's him...my mate...my lion.

********

My mother is exhausted by her tears, and I'm all but carrying her through the graveyard. I shed a few tears myself, though not for him. I would say my father, but he stopped being that long ago. I'm sad he's dead, but not in the way a son should mourn a father. I'm sad in the way I would be for anyone who had met their end in such a terrible way. My tears are for my mother.

Despite his faults, despite the way he treated us, he loved her, and she loved him. She's devastated, almost completely destroyed by his death. Despite everything she loved him. She had loved him with all of her heart for most of her life.

I hold her as we arrive by the car to take us to the wake, though I find myself looking around. I don't know what I expect to find, but I can feel a presence. One I haven't felt in years. I chalk it up to the occasion, and empathy for my mother's pain. I know it can't be what I think it is. The lion is telling me my mate is nearby, but I know that's not true. She was laid to rest two years ago only a few yards from where my father is currently being buried.

********

I pull myself off the ground, looking around to see if I've been noticed. I don't know how long I've been unconscious. The flashbacks were so much more vivid, more complete, so much more painful this time than they ever have been.

I get to my feet and walk a little way, avoiding people on the path. I don't want to risk exposing myself now. I stop short as I feel an irresistible pull to one of the cold stone slabs. I fall to my knees and stare at it in wonder. Is this what I've been looking for?

"Persephone Kiran Jones  
19 September 1988 – 3 May 2004  
May you find peace at last"

It has both my names on it. Persephone and Kiran. I inspect it further, finding that there are images carved into it. A bat, an elephant and a shark are carved underneath the epitaph, while a Lion rests above my name. I know this is mine, the lion is my mate. The bat represents Master Swoop, and I know enough about Master Phant to know his animal spirit is an elephant. I understand now why my mate isn't seeking me out. This is my grave; he thinks I'm lying beneath this stone. To my mate, I'm dead.


	4. Showdown With Swoop

I make my way slowly back to my cell, feeling every inch of me burning. The tears caused by Swoop's betrayal burn in my eyes, making it hard to see. My heart aches as all of the painful thoughts rush through my mind. It's here, it's all here. Right here in Ocean Bluff. My life; my real life was within arm's reach the whole time, kept only from my grasp by Swoop's lies.

Less than a mile from my apartment, the cell I've shut myself into for the last two years was the biggest lie of all, the one that finally answered so many questions. I doubt many people get to see their own grave. I've not only seen it though, I've wept over it. I wept for the loss of a life I never remembered until a few short minutes ago. I wept for the betrayal of a man I've known and in many ways loved, for all this time. I've always known he's been lying to me, but never in my wildest dreams could I believe he could do this.

My sorrow grows as I remember the worst part of all. I've seen my mate, my Lion. Jarrod, the first and only man I'll truly love with all of my being was only about 20 feet from me. He's alive, but he believes the lie Swoop has told us for all this time. He hasn't been looking for me, or even thinking about me for all this time because he believes I'm dead, and since the animal spirits of the three Masters are shown on the grave, they're all in on this.

As I come into the apartment, my senses perk up. He's here. He must have come to see me while I was at the funeral. I turn to see him standing in the centre of the apartment, a cold look on his face. The usual smirk is gone from his lips.

"You aren't meant to leave the apartment Persephone," he tells me, his voice low, with a hint of anger in it, "you know what could happen if you're discovered. Where have you been?"

I can't control myself much longer. He's been my father, my guide, my lover, and also my gaoler. He's been pretending to love me, care for me for so long, all the time he's been keeping me from the truth. Now he has the audacity to scold me like a child?

"I've been to the graveyard Swoop," I hiss angrily, moving around the room. I can see the look on his face changing. He can tell by my voice that I'm still crying, and the savageness of my tone lets him feel the anger in me, "I doubt the police are looking for a corpse!"

"Persephone..."

"I've seen my grave Swoop!" I spit in my rage, slamming my hands into his chest. I stagger him, shoving him roughly into some weight training equipment. "You've lied to me all this time! You've taken everything from me!"

"Persephone..."

"Kiran!" I correct him, slapping him hard across the face and sending him falling to the floor. "I called myself Kiran. Everyone called me Kiran, Jarrod called me Kiran!"

"Jarrod?" Swoop asks me from the floor, "you know about Jarrod?"

"I saw him!" I snarl at him, by now having lost all form of restraint. "One of the men I killed for you was his father. I saw him at the funeral, that's why I was at the graveyard!"

He breathes a sigh and stands up from the floor. I can sense a kind of defeat in him at this point. He has to have known this day would come, that one day I would remember, that he would have to explain everything.

"Did he see you?" Swoop asks me. That's it, that's the final straw. He owes me an explanation. He owes me my life back, and the only thing he cares about is whether I'm the only one who knows about his deceit? I launch into the attack, forcing him to defend himself.

"Kiran, listen to me!" Swoop snaps as he parries the first of my blows, spinning away from me into the middle of the floor to gain some room to move. "I didn't have a choice, there's nothing else we could do. Your condition was so serious; we couldn't stop you from trying to kill yourself."

"I was at the hospital!" I snarl, launching myself onto him, forcing him over a weigh bench, and locking my hands around his throat, desperate to squeeze the life from him. He knees me in the gut and twists himself sharply, dumping me on the floor. He pulls himself back up, rubbing his neck.

"You killed three people!" He reminds me. "Your forensic details are on police file. They don't know your name, but they do know who you are. You are a fugitive; that much is true."

I kip up back to my feet and launch a kick at him, connecting with his ribs. He catches my leg and throws me across the room, smashing me through the coffee table.

"When the Elders found out you had survived and were this dangerous, they wanted to have you executed." He informed me. There are tears in his eyes, and his voice is breaking. "I couldn't let them kill you any more than I could have let you die when you shot yourself."

I launch myself at him again, though this time he's ready for me. He catches my wrists and twists sharply, holding me to his chest, my hands trapped between our bodies as he holds me tightly.

"I volunteered to be your messenger if they kept you on as a hunter." He tells me, his voice becoming strained with his effort to restrain me. I continue to try and rip myself from his grip.

"You should have let me die!" I screech, lashing out at him, kicking him sharply in the shin. He stumbles away far enough for me to punch him in the face. "I had a mate!"

"A mate the elders forbid you to see before the accident." He spluttered as blood fell from his nose. "Their condition for allowing you to live was that I ensure you and Jarrod never see each other again."

"You had no right..."

"I had no choice!" He responds, latching a hand around my throat. I can feel the intensity of his grip. His fingers are squeezing into my jugular. He could tear it out if he wanted, end my misery right now. He loosens his grip and lets his hand fall. "I am sorry, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid. That is why I've lied to you all this time."

"You wanted to keep me for yourself." I mutter as I regain composure. Swoop has never threatened me like that. My life has never been in danger when he is with me. Of course I've never tried to kill him before. I had pretty much driven myself into a murderous rage at his betrayal. He sits on the bed, mopping some blood from his nose. "You never loved me..."

"I've always loved you." He tells me sadly. "Persephone, I never wanted for you to be trapped like this, but it was the only way. I knew you could never live out with the temple's doctrine. Either the police would find you and arrest you, or the Elders would have you hunted and killed. I couldn't bear for either to happen."

I look on him now, and I'm still as mad as hell. He's still the one who's kept me in the dark about all of this but now I see something in him that's been there all along. He looks different to me now. Through my rage I can feel something I never thought I would in this moment. I know he still truly loves me.

"This is the reason I didn't tell you," he sighs sadly, "I knew that you would have to live like this. It seemed merciful that you couldn't remember anything."

He reaches a hand out to me, which I find myself holding.

"I knew you would never be able to go back to your old life," he tells me, "you already know how you felt when you saw Jarrod, when you were so close to him. What was the point in having you remember what you could never have?"

I definitely never expected to feel this. I feel sorry for him. He's been my whole world for so long, in so many more ways than I could ever have known.

"Can you ever forgive me?" he asks me hopefully. My anger overtakes me and I slap him as hard as I can. How could he possibly ask me to forgive him for what he's done? He grabs me as he rolls onto the bed, trying to stop me from attacking him. I manage to shift my weight and we both end up on the floor, the covers wrapped around us. Swoop pins me to the floor. Our breathing is rapid and strained; our hearts pounding. I draw closer to him, and my lips meet his. Before I know it, he's returning the gesture.

A couple of hours later, we're lying on the floor of the ruined apartment. Furniture and training equipment is strewn all over the room. Our clothes discarded carelessly all around us. We lie in each other's arms, the sheets wrapped tightly around us. We're both exhausted, and covered in minor injuries. To look at Swoop's torso, one would think he's been attacked by a wildcat. I guess in a way he has. He reaches across, stroking some hair out of my face.

"The answer's no." I tell him softly. He looks a little confused.

"The answer to what's no?" He asks me.

"No, I can never forgive you," I tell him, pulling into him tightly, resting my head against his chest, "I love you, I understand what you did, but I can never forgive you."

"I guess I'll have to live with that," Swoop tells me sadly as he lifts up the blanket and pulls himself off the floor. He begins to get dressed as I pull the covers around myself, covering my body.

"I guess I have a lot of clearing up to do," I comment sarcastically as I look around at what's left of my apartment. Swoop laughs a little as I say this.

"I can stay and help for a while if you like," he tells me as he finishes getting dressed. I sit on the bed and think about it for a second. So much has happened today already. My head feels like it's going to explode with all the thoughts and feelings coursing through me at an incredible rate. I have a lot to sort through, I need to straighten out my head, and I know I'll never be able to do that with him here.

"I think you'd better go," I tell him. I can already see the look on his face as I say this, and I know what he's thinking. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked me, placing a hand on my shoulder. Now I really am sure. Part of me wants to drag him into the bed with me, another wants to tear his head off. I really need to figure out what's going on in my head. I definitely know I can't do that while he's here. I'm more confused about him than anything else. "I could stay."

"No, I really need to be by myself," I tell him, "I won't go anywhere. I won't leave the apartment again."

He smiles at me and turns to leave. Picking up his coat, he opens the door, before stopping in the doorway.

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry Kiran," he said gently, "I never wanted you to get hurt. You've been hurt too much already."

With that, he left the apartment. I turn over onto the bed and cry myself to sleep. In many ways Swoop was right. Knowing the truth hasn't made things any better for me. If anything, they're a lot worse.

Fin

Chelle had planned a sequel to "Enemy Within", this was just a few pieces I was inspired to write to fill in the gaps. Hope you enjoyed them, and feel I did it justice. Thanks again to Chelle for letting me use the character.


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